Margaret Weis - Test of the Twins

“Tanis always hated plate-mail,” Tas said, watching his friend approach. “And here he is, wearing the armor of a Knight of Solamnia. I wonder what Sturm would have thought of that! I wish Sturm was here right now!” Tas’s lower lip began quivering. A tear sneaked down his nose before he could stop it. “I wish anyone brave and clever was here right now!”

When the Knights drew near the Gate, Tanis stopped and turned to face them, issuing orders in a low voice. The creaking sound of dragon wings came from overhead. Looking up, Tasslehoff saw Khirsah, circling, leading a formation of other bronze dragons. And there was the citadel, coming closer to the wall, dropping down lower and lower.

“Sturm’s not here. Caramon’s not here. No one’s here, Burrfoot,” Tas muttered, resolutely wiping his eyes. “Once again—you’re on your own. Now, what am I going to do?”

Wild thoughts ran through the kender’s mind—everything from holding Tanis at sword point (“I mean it, Tanis, keep those hands in the air!”) to clunking him over the head with a sharp rock (“Uh, say, Tanis, would you mind taking off your helm for a moment?”). Tas was even desperate enough to consider telling the truth (“You see, Tanis, we went back in time, then we went ahead in time, and Caramon got hold of this book from Astinus just as the world was coming to an end, and, in the next to the last chapter, it tells in there how you died, and—”). Suddenly, Tas saw Tanis raise his right arm. There was a flash of silver—

“That’s it,” said Tas, breathing a profound sigh of relief. “That’s what I’ll do—just what I do best...”

“No matter what happens, leave me to deal with Lord Soth,” Tanis said, looking grimly at the knights standing around him. “I want you to swear this, by the Code and the Measure.”

“Tanis, my lord—” began Sir Markham.

“No, I’m not going to argue, Knight. You’ll stand no chance at all against him without magical protection. Each one of you will be needed to fight his legions. Now, either swear this oath, or I will order you off the field. Swear!”

From beyond the closed gate, a deep, hollow voice spoke, calling out for Palanthas to surrender.

The knights glanced at each other, feeling shivers of fear run through their bodies at the inhuman sound. There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the creaking of dragons’ wings overhead as the great creatures—bronze, silver, blue, and black—circled, eyeing each other balefully, waiting for the call to battle. Tanis’s dragon, Khirsah, hovered in the air near his rider, ready to come down upon command.

And then they heard Lord Amothus’s voice—brittle and tight, but strong with purpose—answering the death knight. “Take this message to your Dragon Highlord. Palanthas has lived in peace and beauty for many centuries. But we will buy neither peace nor beauty at the price of our freedom.”

“I swear,” said Sir Markham softly, “by the Code and the Measure.”

“I swear,” came the responses of the other knights after him.

“Thank you,” Tanis said, looking at each of the young men standing before him, thinking that most wouldn’t be alive much longer... . Thinking that he himself—Angrily, he shook his head.

“Fireflash—” The words that would summon his dragon were on Tanis’s lips when he heard a commotion break out at the rear of the line of knights.

“Ouch! Get off my foot, you great lummox!”

A horse whinnied. Tanis heard one of the knights cursing, then a shrill voice answering innocently, “Well, it’s not my fault! Your horse stepped on me! Flint was right about those stupid beasts—”

The other horses, sensing battle and already affected by the tenseness of their riders, pricked their ears and snorted nervously. One danced out of line, his rider grasping at the bridle.

“Get those horses under control!” Tanis called out tensely. “What’s going on—”

“Let me past! Get out of my way. What? Is that dagger yours? You must have dropped it...”

Beyond the gate, Tanis heard the death knight’s voice. “You’ll pay for it with your lives!”

And from the line ahead of him, another voice.

“Tanis, it’s me, Tasslehoff!”

The half-elf’s heart sank. He wasn’t at all certain, at that moment, which voice chilled him more. But there didn’t seem to be time for thought or wonder. Glancing over his shoulder, Tanis saw the gate turn to ice, he saw it shatter... .

“Tanis!” Something had hold of his arm. “Oh, Tanis!” Tas clutched at him. “Tanis! You’ve got to come quickly and save Caramon! He’s going into Shoikan Grove!”

Caramon? Caramon’s dead! was Tanis’s first thought. But then Tas is dead, too. What’s going on? Am I going mad from fear?

Someone shouted. Looking around dazedly, Tanis saw the faces of the knights turn deathly white beneath their helms, and he knew Lord Soth and his legions were entering the gates.

“Mount!” he called, frantically trying to pry loose the kender, who was clinging to him tenaciously.

“Tas! This is no time—Get out of here, damn it!”

“Caramon’s going to die!” Tas wailed. “You’ve got to save him, Tanis!”

“Caramon’s... already... dead!” Tanis snarled. Khirsah landed on the ground beside him, screaming a battle cry. Evil and good—the other dragons shrieked in anger, flying at each other, talons gleaming. In an instant, battle was joined. The air was filled with the flash of lightning and the smell of acid. From above, horns sounded in the floating citadel. There were cries of glee from the draconians, who began eagerly dropping down into the city, their leathery wings spread to break their fall.

And moving closer, the chill of death flowing from his fleshless body, rode Lord Soth.

But, try as he might, Tanis couldn’t shake Tas loose. Finally, swearing beneath his breath, the half-elf got a grip on the writhing kender. Catching hold of Tas around the waist, so angry he was literally choking with rage—Tanis hurled the kender into a corner of a nearby alley.

“And stay there!” he roared.

“Tanis!” Tas pleaded. “You can’t go out there! You’re going to die. I know!”

Giving Tas a last, furious glance, Tanis turned on his heel and ran. “Fireflash!” he shouted. The dragon swooped over to him, landing on the street beside him.

“Tanis!” Tas screamed shrilly. “You cant fight Lord Soth without the bracelet!”

The bracelet! Tanis looked down at his wrist. The bracelet was gone! Whirling, he made a lunge for the kender. But it was too late. Tasslehoff was dashing down the street, running as if his life depended on it. (Which, after glimpsing Tanis’s furious face, Tas figured it probably did.)

“Tanis!” cried out Sir Markham.

Tanis turned. Lord Soth sat upon his nightmare, framed by the shattered gates of the city of Palanthas. His flaming-eyed gaze met Tanis’s and held. Even at that distance, Tanis felt his soul shrivel with the fear that shrouds the walking dead.

What could he do? He didn’t have the bracelet. Without it, there’d be no chance. No chance whatsoever! Thank the gods, Tanis thought in that split second, thank the gods I’m not a knight, bound to die with honor.

“Run!” he commanded through lips so stiff he could barely speak. “Fly! There is nothing you can do against these! Remember your oath! Retreat! Spend your lives fighting the living! Even as he spoke, a draconian landed in front of him, its horrible reptilian face twisted in bloodlust. Remembering just in time not to stab the thing, whose foul body would turn to stone, encasing the sword of its killers, Tanis bashed it in the face with the hilt of his weapon, kicked it in the stomach, then leaped over it as it tumbled to the ground.